


The Lesson

by Lexalicious70



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fellatio, M/M, Margo lends a hand, Quentin is a virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: When Quentin’s inexperience with men triggers anxiety and affects his blossoming relationship with Eliot, Margo volunteers to show him the way.





	The Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> The BFF inspired this tale, as she thought someone learning the ropes with a much more experienced partner would be sexy, so I wrote this for her. I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun and to pass the time until season 4 premieres next week. Comments, kudos, and questions are all equally welcomed: enjoy!

The Lesson

By Lexalicious70

 

The slam of an upstairs door jerked Margo out of the Fendi catalog she’d been browsing. She glanced up, her brow furrowing, as Quentin came half-running, half-stumbling, down the stairs, breathing in gasps that told Margo he was moments away from bursting into tears. She tossed the catalog on a nearby table and made it to the Physical Kids cottage door just before Quentin could make his escape.

 

“Whoa, hey, what’s the problem? You’re running out of here like your dick is on fire! It’s not, is it?” She glanced in that direction as Quentin tried to shake her off.

 

“Let me go!” He demanded, but his voice was strangled with panic, not anger. Margo let him go and he bolted out the door. She followed, curious and sensing that this current drama had something to do with Eliot.

 

“I thought you and El were on a date?” She called at Quentin’s retreating form, and he paused. Margo took the invitation and went to him. “Let me guess . . . it didn’t go as planned? Not the roses and candlelight you envisioned?”

 

Quentin folded his arms across his chest.

 

“It’s not that. We—we were having a good time at first, uhm—wine and stuff, and he did buy me flowers.” Quentin shook his head. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”

 

Margo took hold of one arm and turned Quentin to face her.

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“Me!” Quentin burst out. “Like every other fucking relationship in my life, the problem is me!” He tried to bolt again and Margo held him up with a touch.

 

“Stop. Okay? Quit running away from everything and tell me what you mean.”

 

Quentin turned back toward her, his brow furrowing as he tucked a lock of tawny hair behind one ear.

 

“Tell _you_ what I mean? No offense but why do you care?”

 

Margo put her hands on her slim hips.

 

“Because, asshole, the person you’re dating? He’s my other half in every way but where our bits are supposed to join, and for that, I’m pretty sure the only person he wants in that capacity from now on is you. So spill.”

 

“All right, just—not here. Come on.” Quentin headed down a path that led toward the main area of Brakebills and stopped at one of the many fountains that dotted the campus. He sat on the wide tiled edge of one that depicted Merlin juggling stars and planets. Water gushed from each and poured down into the fountain, where the floor was tiled with ancient magical runes. Margo sat beside him.

 

“So why were you running away from Eliot?” She asked, and Quentin ran a hand over his face.

 

“Because I fucked up. It was going good at first, I mean . . . we were talking and drinking wine, but then, uhm, we started kissing. It got kinda heavy and—and Eliot, he—he asked if we could . . .” Here, Quentin gestured at his fly, and Margo nodded.

 

“A general unveiling for you both?” She asked, and Quentin sighed.

 

“Yeah. And I mean, it’s not like I refused. We both did, and looking at him, it really turned me on. You know? I don’t know if you’ve ever seen—”

 

“Hung like Goliath.” Margo nodded. “And then?”

 

“I wanted to try something I never had before. Eliot is the first guy I’ve ever been with this way so I leaned over and—I tried to, uhm . . .” Quentin’s hands stimmed for a moment. “But I completely lost my nerve. I panicked, and I ran. God.” Quentin sniffled. “Eliot must think I’m a complete asshole!”

 

“Oh, I doubt it. What he probably thinks is that you’re a virgin when it comes to sucking cock, which, let’s face it, you are. So you freaked out, you’re probably not the first guy to lose his nerve when confronted with a horse dick like El’s!”

 

“But it’s Eliot!” Quentin practically wailed. “What if I fucked the only chance I had with him?”

 

“My guess would be he’s ready to give you another chance. Several . . . possibly more, because you’re Quentin.” She got up and took his hand. “Come on. We’ll go talk to him together, and maybe I can help.”

 

“How?”

 

“Despite what some people might think, El and I have never slept together. We do a fair amount of cuddling because he makes one hell of a big spoon and that’s just who we are, but sometimes knowing someone better than they might know themselves can help during a time like this.” She tugged him off the fountain and Quentin followed, looking reluctant.

 

“Margo, I don’t know—”

 

“So you’ve said. Now shut up.” She led him back toward the cottage and through the door. The main room was empty all for Eliot, who was fixing himself a drink at the bar. Margo shut the door behind them with a terse kick that made her best friend glance up. He took on an air of indifference, taking his time with mixing the drink.

 

“So,” He said after several minutes. “You’re back.”

 

“El . . . I’m so sorry,” Quentin ventured, but Margo cut him off with a wave of her hand.

 

“Let me cut through what I know is going to be a long-winded, stammering apology which still won’t explain why your boy toy here bolted.”

 

“I’m not a boy toy!” Quentin protested, then fell silent as Margo glared at him.

 

“El, long story short, Quentin took off on you because he was embarrassed. He’s never tasted cock before.”

 

“I would never have guessed,” Eliot said as he glanced away and sipped his drink. Margo frowned.

 

“Excuse me, Miss Davis? It’s been almost seventy years since _All About Eve_. The faux exhaustion? It’s kind of played out.”

 

Eliot held his pose for several more seconds before turning back to face his friends.

 

“Quentin? Is that really the reason you ran?” He asked, and Quentin nodded.

 

“My anxiety and inexperience, it—I thought you’d maybe laugh or get angry if I didn’t—uhm, perform.”

 

“I didn’t mean to push you. I thought we were both on the same wavelength.”

 

“We are! I just—you know how it is when you’ve played something over in your mind about a million times but then you’re actually facing it, and it’s nothing like you expected?”

 

Eliot set his drink down and came out from behind the bar.

 

“You’ve imagined sucking my dick a million times?”

 

Quentin’s cheeks went pink but he nodded.

 

“I’m—I want you that way, El. I swear to God I do, I’ve just never done anything like that before.”

 

“I think I can help,” Margo spoke up. “El, grab a bottle of wine or two and we’ll go upstairs.”

 

Eliot stared at his friend a moment before the corners of his lips quirked upward.

 

“Bambi to the rescue, is it?” He asked, going to her side, and she nodded.

 

“The boy needs some instruction. Come on.”

 

 Twenty minutes later found the three young Magicians sitting on Eliot’s bed together, passing around a bottle of Moscato. Margo noticed that Quentin wasn’t much at holding his liquor, but all the better for this situation. She rose, went to the closet, and returned a moment later with a realistic-looking dildo that she felt best represented Eliot. Quentin blinked at it and burst into nervous, wine-fueled giggles.

 

“Holy shit, Margo!”

 

“What? It’s a dildo, Quentin, I own several, and?”

 

“And—well—nothing, I guess I didn’t expect you to just whip one out!”

 

“And how else am I supposed to teach you how to give amazing head?”

 

Quentin choked on the swig of wine he was taking. Droplets pattered to the duvet and Eliot frowned, but Quentin stared at Margo instead, his dark eyes wide.

 

“ _That’s_ your plan? Holy cripes!”

 

“That’s my plan, sweet puppy, and you better pay attention because I don’t do this for just anyone.” She motioned to them both. “Pants and boxers off, now.”

 

“I—” Quentin stammered, and Eliot reached out to undo the button and fly on Quentin’s jeans.

 

“We better do as she says, Q,” He said in an almost playful tone. “Like Bambi said, she doesn’t help just anyone this way.” He tugged at Quentin’s jeans until they slid off, along with his boxers, and then Eliot shed his as well. The sight of all that bare skin, sheathed in what Quentin knew had to be smooth, velvety flesh, caused a shiver of excitement to ripple through him. Margo sat at the end of the bed with the dildo in her right hand.

 

“How to please a penis, lesson one,” she said, catching Quentin’s eye. “You start out with a gentle caress, like so.” She demonstrated with the dildo, and Quentin paused. “Again, like so.” She repeated the gesture, and Quentin stretched out a hand to repeat it, his fingers brushing against Eliot’s cock. Eliot’s eyes closed and he leaned back a bit, giving Quentin the confidence to try again.

 

“Good,” Margo nodded. “That’s the thing, Q, when you’re going to give head, you don’t dive in like you’re at the pool at the Brooklyn YMCA. You work up to it . . . you want your partner to be begging for it by the time you actually get down to business. Now, take hold of him like this—” Margo positioned her fingers around the dildo and Quentin watched, his lips moving slightly, as if he was taking visual notes. Margo waited for him to catch up and then started stroking the dildo, keeping a loose fist around the latex. “Now like this. Take your time, down, then up. Good! Now extend your thumb and rub it over the head—I said rub, don’t flick! You aren’t firing up a fucking Zippo—good, better.” She divided her attention between Eliot’s face and Quentin’s hand. “Just like that . . . it’s like jerking yourself off, only with someone else’s cock.” She watched as Eliot’s breathing came quicker and his cock stiffened in Quentin’s hand. “He’s almost ready for your mouth, Q . . . are you feeling okay?” She asked, keeping her voice low and gentle, and Quentin nodded, his eyes fastened on Eliot’s cock. It was as outsized as his big hands and feet, yet proportioned with the long, lean lines of his frame. His own cock was becoming more than interested in the proceedings, but he wanted to see what else he could make Eliot feel. He leaned in and Eliot locked eyes with him as their lips met. Eliot’s were sticky-sweet with wine and then they parted, his tongue touching Quentin’s.

 

“Very nice!” Margo smiled. “You’re quite a sight—I might need some time alone in the bathtub later!”

 

“Margo!” Quentin chuffed laughter against Eliot’s lips, a bit giddy with the taste of him and the wine, and Margo grinned a little.

 

“All right, lesson two. Like I said before, you just can’t go to town all sloppy. That’s terrible technique and just not acceptable. Watch me, Q.” She leaned in and began to flick her tongue around the head of the dildo, a sight which allowed Quentin to confirm that he was definitely bisexual. Her eyes rose to his and the message was clear—get to it. Quentin lowered his head, heat blooming in his cheeks, as he tasted the head of Eliot’s cock. Fluid rushed from the tip and he drew back in surprise, but only for a moment before he leaned back in and sampled it like a butterfly feeding at a particularly exotic flower. Eliot’s head tipped back and he moaned.

 

“Fuck! Fuck, Q . . .” One big hand reached out to pet and tug at his hair, and some of Quentin’s anxiety ebbed. He glanced over at Margo, who was still demonstrating. He copied her stroke for stroke, his natural desire to please any teacher allowing him focus more and worry less. Margo caught his eye, covered her teeth with her lips, and then lowered her mouth down onto the dildo. Quentin hesitated only a moment before he did the same, and Eliot stroked his hair.

 

“Easy Q, don’t try too much at once . . . oh God . . .” Eliot bit his lower lip to quell his moans as he watched Quentin suck him. Like his lover, he’d envisioned this scene almost every night since they’d met, and now the delicious reality of it was almost too much to bear. He let Quentin’s hair run through his fingers, the strands soft and fine, and he caught Margo’s hand move out of the corner of his eye. A moment later Quentin’s left hand was cupping his testes, palming and rolling then along his hand, and Eliot’s gasp caught on sensation before his entire body seemed to lift and fill and pulse.

 

“Q—” He got no further and tugged on his lover’s hair, pulling him off just before he came so hard that his vision blurred. The hot pulses of his orgasm struck Quentin in the face and dripped off his cheeks and chin, a look that, Eliot had to admit, turned him on to the point that one more stream of come dribbled from his wilting cock before the sensations finally died away, leaving him weak and flushed. Quentin blinked at having been ferociously creampied but didn’t protest. Margo chuckled as she brought him a warm washcloth from the bathroom.

 

“P.S.? That means you did good.” She washed his face clean and then stepped back as Eliot tackled him to the bed, kissing him, one big hand questing between his legs to find his cock stiff and dripping. It took only a few moments until they were curled up together, panting, Quentin’s issue covering his own belly and thighs. Margo tossed the cloth to Eliot.

 

“And thus endeth the lesson,” she smiled, and Eliot gave her a lazy, grateful grin.

 

“Thank you, Bambi.”

 

“You’re welcome.” She leaned over to kiss the top of his head, and then did the same to Quentin’s before heading for the door. Eliot closed his eyes and let sleep come for him, but not before Margo’s voice called back to him from the hallway.

 

“By the way, you’re on your own with teaching him anal!”

 

Eliot grinned and scooped Quentin into his arms. The younger magician was already asleep, a smile on his sweet, curved lips. Eliot kissed them as he considered Margo’s words and how happy he’d be to teach that lesson to a pupil so eager to learn as Quentin Coldwater.

 

_FIN_


End file.
